


Only Cat Knows Where He's At

by theniftycat



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9451085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theniftycat/pseuds/theniftycat
Summary: Written based on a prompt by JackyMedan in which Illya is a cat who magically became human





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JackyMedan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyMedan/gifts).



Being a stray cat requires some skill. Well, to be perfectly honest, it requires a LOT of skill. He knew it and he also knew he was very good at it. Like, ridiculously good. Nature gave him a small, but very strong and nimble body. He could easily hide, hunt and escape. His other interests included mostly humans. Watching them doing strange, inexplicable things. For example, what was the whole deal with their cars? He's gotten used to them by now, that's for sure, but if you really think about it, they are really strange. Cars, buses, TRAINS, they are just these weird giant beasts that swallow people and things and then throw them up randomly. They must have really bad tummies... They also ate cats sometimes. Those sad furry things who were silly enough to befriend humans and live with them in their houses. Humans were really stupid if they allowed themselves to be eaten by the beasts. But did they really have to bring their cat friends with them?

There were, however, some human's cat friends who never even left their houses. He could see them, but he couldn't touch them. They were as unreachable as things he saw in puddles. Maybe they weren't even real? No, they were. He talked to some cats who lived in the houses. They were real. And they loved humans. At least, some of them.

So, his life was filled with mystery. He knew a lot, but many things he couldn't understand.

But did he really want to understand humans? No. He was happy to be a cat.

Untill... Something happened...

He woke up because he was freezing. For a moment he thought that it was probably winter, but it wasn't. So, why didn't his long fur save him from the cold? Because he had no fur anymore! He looked at his paws, they were different. They were strange and long and not beautiful. Pinkish. The colour of humans' faces and hands and legs. This couldn't be. He screamed, but he didn't hear his nice voice, it was something else.

The terrifying discovery landed on him like a garbage bag on the ground. He wasn't a cat anymore, he was a human. But how did it happen? Did he eat something? Probably. He jumped up and tried to throw up, but it didn't work. Also, it was apparent that his new body wasn't really fit for jumping like this, because he was too heavy. He sat back down and thought that he would have to walk on two feet, it seemed stupid. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe he'll wake up soon. He remembered how once he was chased by a dog in his dream and woke up because he was too scared. He was pretty sure scared right now, so, why didn't he wake up? He got up and ran a bit, but his feet and arms were in pain every moment they touched the ground. He lied down and started crying. But lying down was painful as well.

He never thought being a human would be so painful. He now understood why they needed their clothes and houses and why they were ready to be eaten by cars. But he wouldn't do it... He was going to find a way to become a cat again. But where would he start? He was a human now... So he could enter a human house and live there, right? He looked around. He was in a back alley of a house, he could easily go in.

He got up on his two feet and approached the door. He saw it being opened many times, so he pulled the handle. It didn't open. He remembered that humans would put little sticks in little holes and open the doors. He took a stick from the ground and tried to do something. The door opened*. He walked in. The house was not what he had imagined. It had some empty buckets and some other things that didn't smell nice. He was disappointed. What do humans do here? What do they eat? He couldn't see or smell anything good. He walked further and saw stairs and other doors. One of these doors just seemed nice, he walked towards it. It was closed. He decided to think for a while and sat on the rug before the door. His furless skin was too sensible and he felt that there was something under the rug. He reached for it and found the key, or, as he understood it, the stick that could open the door.

What he entered was a flat. It was the real place where humans lived. It was warm and smelled good. He tried to hear if anyone was around, but he didn't hear anything. So, it was his house. He was a human and now he had a house. He was so good at it!

He got excited and started discovering what he had in his house. He opened every door and smelled everything. He found some food and, after a little feast, clothes. He found a mirror and somehow understood that it was him in the reflection, even though at first he thought it was someone else. He had to get used to seeing himself like this. His fur was more yellow than before and he didn't have much of it. He looked different from other humans he'd seen, because, as he understood now, they all wore clothes. So, he tried to put some of them on, it was difficult, but he managed. Then he went to eat a bit more. Now as he was really, really full and warm, he wanted to sleep, so, he went to the closet with clothes, put some on the floor, lied down on them and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *he's a magical cat burglar ok


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Napoleon is introduced

That night Napoleon came home late. Tomorrow was his day off and he was looking forward to making the best of it. But the moment he approached his door, he understood that it all went down the drain. Because the door wasn't locked and somebody was in his flat. He took his gun out of the holster and started his investigation. Soon Napoleon found the intruder, he was sleeping in his closet, right on the floor, covered in his clothes. Napoleon hid his gun and squatted. The sleeping man had no arms with him, even more so, he seemed to have NOTHING at all, because even the clothes he wore were Napoleon's.

"Alright then, wake up now."

The man on the floor opened his eyes and then suddenly jumped away to the corner of the closet almost squeezing himself into a ball.

"Go away! Leave!" he hissed somehow even though the words didn't have any fizzly sounds.

"I won't. It's my house. Listen, by the look of yours, I'm assuming you're in trouble. Who are you and what happened?"

"Why-why is it your house? I'm a human now, I came here first, I live here now."

"Oh, you're a human now, aren't you, mm-hm? And who were you before that?"

"I... was a cat..."

"A cat? Well, isn't that nice. Look, I don't know who did this to you and what exactly they did, but you really need some help. Will you leave the closet, please?"

The man slowly got up, but he didn't straighten his back properly and really looked like a cat with his hands ready to scratch.

"I'm not going to hurt you. By the way, are you hurt? I think I should see if you had any traumas. Will you... let me?" Napoleon said as softly as he could.

"My hands hurt..."

The man showed him his palms, they were badly scratched.

"Oh boy, how did it happen?"

"I ran."

"You ran on your hands?.. Oh, I see, you're a cat."

The guy truly needed help. Napoleon decided to get him to the hospital, but first he wanted to know a bit more about him, maybe it was possible to find out who he really was.

"Do you have any more scratches? We need to wash them, otherwise they might get infected."

"What is infected?" asked the man turning his head slightly.

"...Look, if you're a cat, how come you speak at all?"

"I... I don't know, I'm a human now. I'm good at being human." He licked his hand.

"...You are. Don't... don't lick it, humans don't do it." The man blinked in confusion as he heard these words. "Infected is... hurt, you know. Ill. We need to wash your grazes. And tell me if you have any more of them."

"I don't know..."

"Okay, maybe... you'll take your clothes off and we'll look?"

"Alright."

The man started undressing rather awkwardly, like he'd never done it before.

"Oh no!.." Napoleon had to close his eyes with his hand. "You have no underwear!"

"What-what is it?"

"Right, you are a cat!"

"Yes, I am, I've already said so."

"Look, people... they wear... things to hide their... Nevermind, first we need to see if you're okay."

He opened his eyes and blushed, but proceeded to check the integrity of his guest's skin.

"Well, not too bad, but I'd suggest you taking a shower. But you won't like it, probably... A bath might work. Listen, you are a human now, right?"

"Right."

"Humans... they like water. They wash in it. You'll have to do the same. But first put your clothes back on. It's... cold."

The man started dressing up.

"Being human is bad," he said, "I don't like it."

Napoleon blinked.

"Yes, but... It might be okay."

"I want to become a cat again."

"I'll try to help you," said Napoleon and realised that he really would like to help him himself, but how? First, to find out who he really is, right. "Wait for me in the kitchen, the place with food, you know. I'll start filling the bath."

Three minutes later Napoleon entered the kitchen and found the man sitting on the floor eating raw chicken.

"We... don't eat chicken raw."

The man spat.

"That's why it's not tasty."

"Yes. Instead, you can have some cookies and... cheese. I'll fry some eggs for you."

The man stood up and approached Napoleon, then look him straight in the eyes and said, "Will you teach me how to be a human?"

Napoleon blinked and replied: "Yes."

The man's face squished happily, it wasn't quite a smile, but almost, and he rubbed his cheek against Napoleon's.

"People-"

"Don't do it? Alright. What do they do?"

"They... say 'thank you'," replied Napoleon, but he had a couple of other options showing up in his head.

The man narrowed his eyes and said, "Thank you."

"Alright... I think the bath will be ready soon. All you have to do is to get undressed and sit down in the water. There will be bubbles, don't worry about them. Do you think you will manage?"

"Yes."

"Good, well, the bathroom is the white door to the right in the bedroom where you slept."

"Bathroom and bedroom. Good. I like them. Why isn't this called foodroom?"

"People are... just silly?"

"True." And he left the kitchen hardly making any sounds. Napoleon was left to clean up the mess he left (for example, the floor was covered in water because all the ice from his fridge melted after the stranger left it open) and cook supper. Now he could think. The man seemed to genuinely think he was a cat, but why? He probably suffered a head injury, but his head looked fine and he didn't say anything about headache. Of course, he needed a doctor, but they would probably put him in an asylum, and if there was nobody to take care of him, then the poor guy would be completely lost. He must have some family. Napoleon tried to remember and decided that he had no rings or pendants. Nor clothes of his own as it seemed or anything... He'll look at the missing persons lists tomorrow. But surely he must send him to a hospital, he just can't leave him like that. But first, they must eat.

Suddenly he heard a scream and rushed to the bathroom.

"Hot!" exclaimed the man trying to hide into the bedroom's closet.

"And wet. Right. I get it. Look, you'll like it as soon as you get inside."

"How do you know?"

"Because... I do it all the time."

"I've never seen any human doing it."

"Oh... Well, I guess, nobody has windows in their bathrooms."

"Why? Do you hide there?"

"No... We wash there. And do other things."

"What things? Why won't you tell me everything?"

"Okay, I will, I promise you, I will, but first, let's go to the bathroom."

"Will you show me how to do it?"

"Alright."

In the bathroom Napoleon took off his clothes except for underpants and put one of his legs in the bathtub when the man asked, "Is this underwear?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you take it off?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Ah, okay."

Finally, Napoleon got into the bathtub. "See? It's fine. Now it's your turn."

The man almost jumped into the tub.

"No, wait till I get out!"

The bathtub was too small for both of them and it wasn't really comfortable to get out of there. "I really hope I won't have to show you how to do everything."

"Why? This way we can wash each other."

"Oh well, why indeed. You really are a cat."

"I am."

"I wish I could stay and wash you, but I need to cook you some food now."

"Food is good."

Half an hour later they were sitting behind the table in the kitchen. The man didn't look relaxed sitting in a chair, he felt like it wasn't safe enough and really wanted to move to the floor, but he had to be a human now. He was learning. He just told Napoleon the story of what had happened to him today.

"So, you lived here all your life before that?" asked Napoleon.

"Yes. I've seen many days. Many days and many winters."

"How many winters?"

"Four."

"So, you are four years old. Alright. Have you ever seen me before?"

"Yes, many times."

"What did I do?"

"You were eaten by your car and then spat again."

"That's nice. How does my car look?"

"It's grey like a mouse."

"Right."

"And you took square things and you looked at them for a long time. And you often came home at night. And you gave me food sometimes."

"Really?.. I did..."

"You did." The man squished his face again. "That's why I didn't attack you when you came. I know you. You are good."

"Look, let's talk more tomorrow. I want to sleep."

"Me too."

"I have only one bed... Where do you want to sleep?"

"I can sleep where I slept."

"No, you won't sleep on the floor."

"Then I can sleep with you, it will be warmer."

"...You know what? Okay."

And it was really, really warm, because the man snuggled very close to Napoleon who didn't sleep for a second that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the cat gets a name

Morning came in with the sounds of jazz music coming through the window. The cat woke up and stratched his limbs. Then he remembered he wasn't a cat anymore. It was annoying. He whined a bit, feeling like the music was whining with him. Then he thought that it would be nice to eat. He got up and smelled the air, then went to the kitchen, alert as ever.

"Do you know who is crying?" he asked when he saw the man who fed him yesterday.

"Crying?" Napoleon didn't understand the question.

"Yes, outside." He looked at the window.

"Ah, you mean the sounds?"

"Yes."

"It's nobody. It's music. People make these sounds with instruments to show their emotions."

"People don't cry?"

"No, they do. But they also do other things, like music and other arts."

"I like music." The man came close to the window. "Where are they? I want to meet them."

"It's only a record... Nevermind. You can meet them. I'll take you to them one day."

The ca-- man who was still looking at the window, suddenly became visibly tense and it looked like he was about to jump and then he bumped his head on the glass. He screamed.

"Rat! There was a rat! Why didn't it let me to get it?"

"Because there's glass! It's not visible, but you can't go through it."

"But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!?!"

"Without it it would be as cold in here as outside."

"It is!!!"

Napoleon sighed, then approached the man and put his hand on his shoulder.

"But not in winter."

"Oh..."

"Yes, I don't think I'll let you drink coffee. We'll have to settle for milk."

"Milk is good."

"Yes. And after we eat you will show me the place where you woke up yesterday, okay?"

"The one that is not your closet."

"Yes."

After breakfast Napoleon did his best to find the man an appropriate outfit that would look okay and fit him. The biggest problem was the shoes, because their feet were of different sizes, so, the only available option was to give him slippers. Well, at least, they weren't going to spend a lot of time outside. So, the man ended up wearing slippers, green sweater and pants that touched the ground, because they were longer than he needed. Napoleon prayed not to meet anyone, but of course, they did.

"Good morning, Mr. Solo," said Mrs. Pickle, one of his neighbours as soon as they left the flat.

"Good morning," replied Napoleon.

"Won't you introduce us?" she said smiling at the blond man and extending her hand.

"He doesn't speak!" panicked Napoleon seeing that the man was about to smell her hand. Both the man and the woman looked at him in confusion.

"Really? I thought I heard some voices." She said almost defensively.

"He doesn't speak English. He's Russian. He's my cousin from Russia."

"Oh? How do they greet each other in Russia then?" she looked at her hand not knowing what to do.

"They don't!" Napoleon took the man by the shoulders and led him outside.

"Well, that wasn't clever at all," he said when they were 'safe'.

"Three cats live with her," said the man.

"Do you... know them?"

"They never go outside. But they always look."

"You think they've seen something?"

"They may."

"Do you want to talk to them?.."

"I don't know. Can I talk to them?"

"Well, I don't think Mrs. Pickle will let you after the buffoonery she just witnessed."

"But can I talk to cats?"

"Oh, you mean you don't know if you're able? Let's try to find out."

As they searched the place where the cat became human, they couldn't find anything special except for some bones that were left after one of his previous meals.

"I always wanted to know. Can people eat bones if they are so big and strong?" asked the man.

Napoleon looked at him with a complex expression and answered, "No."

"Humans... can't do anything... They can't run properly. They can't eat raw meat. They have to wear clothes and stay home. They can't eat bones. What are they good for?"

"It does sound pretty bad when you put it like this. I'm sure there is something."

"Like what? Don't you want to be a cat?"

"Look, everybody wants to be a cat. But being a human is also fine."

"Are you lying? Because why then would you get eaten by your car every day?"

"Eaten? You think people are getting eaten by their cars? No, we use them to get to other places very fast. That's why we don't have to run."

"Oh. That's good. How far they can go?"

"Very far. To other cities. To other countries."

"What are countries?"

"Places with many cities. Different people live in different countries. They also speak different languages. For example, I told Mrs. Pickle that you are Russian, Russia is a country and Russian people live there."

"Do you mean, there are so many people?"

"Yes. And cats. Cats live everywhere people do. People love cats."

"Because cats are better hunters?"

"...Not exactly. Just because they are small and nice. They look good and they like to cuddle."

"I'm not small anymore... And I don't look good."

"No, you do. And you're smaller than me."

"Then you love me?"

"...Look, I need to tell you a thing. When a human loves another human, it's different from loving a cat. It's... more of a secret. It's a... very deep feeling."

"It's okay, I'm not going to stay a human for much longer. Will you love me as a cat? Will you feed me?"

"If you become a cat, I will, yes."

"Of course, I knew it, if you didn't love me, you wouldn't feed me and help me."

"Well, I guess..."

"Will you give me more food when we go inside?"

"Okay."

"Thank you. I love you because you feed me. You love me because you feed me!"

Napoleon couldn't argue with this kind of logic.

After a snack, Napoleon asked him, "Would you like to have a name?"

"A name?"

"A special word for me to call you."

"Do you have one?"

"Yes, my name is Napoleon."

"Is it your special word?"

"Yes."

"For me to call you?"

"Yes."

"Good! Napoleon, call me... Cat!"

"No, it's not special, it's as if you called me Human."

"But I am a human! And my name is Cat."

"Well... how will you know if I'm talking about you or some other cat? You need another name. I will call you Cat if you like, but you need a distinct name."

"But how will I know what words can I use? If I call myself Table, how will I know that you're not talking about another table?"

"Well, there are names that already exist, I can tell you about them."

"Alright. Do you know any Russian names?"

"Yes, a lot of them," said Napoleon feeling relieved.

"Tell me them."

"Ivan."

"No."

"Pyotr."

"I don't like it."

"Fyodor."

He hissed, "They are the same."

"Okay, Illya."

"Illya?"

"Illya."

"Illya. It sounds nice. My name is Illya."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Illya tries apple pie

"So, there are two things you need to do: don't leave the house and always close the fridge's door after you take some food from there. Basically, be careful in general," said Napoleon as he was about to leave. He had to buy more food for a proper dinner, find out if somebody was looking for Illya and get to know if there were any other cases like his, maybe he was onto something.

"Will you come back?" Illya approached him and looked at him anxiously.

"Of course, I will. In a couple of hours or so." Napoleon couldn't resist from stroking his head. "Don't worry, it'll be alright."

When Illya was left alone, he wasn't sure what to do. He was full, he had nobody to hunt, the window view was boring, so, he decided to have a nap.

After some time somebody knocked at the door. Illya woke up, he didn't know what to do.

"It's us! Open the door! I cooked you something."

"I'm also here!"

Illya recognised their voices, they had three cats living with them. He got up and opened the door. Two women were standing there, one of them had something that smelleed really good in her hands.

"Oh, darling! Hello, this is Miss Peters, she lives with me."

"Hi!" said the second woman.

Illya was confused not knowing what to do.

"I-I can't speak, I'm Russian," said he.

"Oh, I know, darling, but you can understand what we say, right? Or does Mr. Solo speak Russian?" asked Mrs. Pickle.

"I told you he was a spy," said Miss Peters.

"Stop talking nonsense! He's only a travelling salesman, you always want some intrigue around you."

"No, I don't, I just observe the facts. And don't you dare shutting me up!"

"Hey, I didn't!"

"You did! Anyway, young man, can you say 'yes' or 'no' at least?"

"I think so..." answered Illya.

"Good. You hear? He has an accent."

"No, he doesn't," protested Mrs. Pickle. "Will you let us in, darling?"

"Yes," said Illya.

They went in, looked around quickly and desicively went to the kitchen, Illya followed them.

"I baked an apple pie, do you like it, darling?"

"Yes," said Illya having no idea what it was.

"Oh, you're such a sweet boy," said Miss Peters and stroked his cheek.

"When I saw you this morning, I realised you were in trouble. I know Mr. Solo is a good man, so, I knew you were as well."

"Except, Mr. Solo is a spy."

Mrs. Pickle threw a fierce glance at Miss Peters.

"Are you hiding from the government, darling?" she asked.

"What is government?" replied Illya.

"Oh, you don't understand! I wish I knew Russian."

"You would if your family didn't leave," remarked Miss Peters.

"Oh, is that what you'd wish for me, Eleanore? Yes, my family was from Russia as well, so, I understand the trouble you're going through, darling. Would you like to try the pie?"

"Yes," said Illya.

Mrs. Pickle set the table and the three of them sat down. Illya started eating the pie and it was really tasty.

"So, how are you? Do you miss your family?" asked Mrs. Pickle in a concerned voice.

"No."

"Why? Do you have no family? Oh, poor darling! I'm so happy that there is Mr. Solo to help you! I was completely alone once, when Mr. Pickle left me twenty four years ago... But then there was Eleanore, she helped me," she hugged Eleanore's arm. "You did, didn't you?"

"Yes, and you could hardly speak English as well back then."

"Oh, shut up! My family left Russia when I was two, I grew up in America."

"See? You're shutting me up again!"

"But you!.. Oh well."

"So, how do you like it here, young man?" asked Eleanore.

"Not as good as I thought."

"Oh?"

"He's having it a hard way, poor darling. What do you like here? Is there anything you like?"

"Yes. Food. Napoleon. Music."

"Oh, that's so sweet!"

"What music do you like, young man?" asked Eleanore.

"The one... I heard today in the morning."

"Oh, it probably was my record! See? It's good if young men like him still like it!" she said to Mrs. Pickle, "Two of my brothers play in jazz bands, they're real hepcats."

"Cats? Your brothers are cats?"

"Oh yes, they are! Such cool cats, you've never seen one of their kin."

"Can I meet them?"

"Of course, you can! They play at a club not far from here. It's called Pink Parrot, you tell them you're from Eleanore, they might even get you free drinks! What's your name, young man?"

"My name is Illya, but it's special for Napol--"

"Well, golly gee! Am I the only one who has a decent human name around here?"

"Would you be quiet, Eleanore Peters? Didn't you here he said it was special for Mr. Solo? It's so sweet!" Mrs. Pickle wiped her eyes.

"Well, birds of a feather flock together. Yes, I am glad you weren't wrong, Sarah, he is nice. Would be awfully sad if this young man was a criminal of a kind."

"Yes, you're right, my dear. I always feel things..."

"The only thing you don't get is that Mr. Solo is a spy! Tell me, young man, is he a spy?"

"I... don't know."

Eleanore flung up her hands. "I will know the truth one day, I swear!"

"You already know it, he's a salesman! Did you like the pie, darling?"

"Yes."

"Good! I'm so glad to meet you. We live next door, come to visit us sometimes."

"But don't think we have nothing better to do than entertaining you," Eleanore warned.

Napoleon came back home half an hour later. He didn't find out anything, but at least he bought some more food. It was strange to cook so much, but it was the only option, because he couldn't take Illya somewhere to eat. He also reported himself ill and took a leave without pay for following days.

"Ah, it's you," greeted him Illya. "I'm tired of talking." He went to the bedroom.

"Well, isn't that nice," sighed Napoleon and left for kitchen.

***

"Why do they call you 'Mr. Solo'?" Illya asked hugging Napoleon as they were already in bed.

"Because it's my name."

"Is it your not special name?"

"...Yes."

"Do I get to have a not special name?"

"You can have it, yes. But why?"

"Because my name Illya is only for you."

"Oh, well... Do you want to have a not special name?"

"I don't know. Will you make apple pie tomorrow?"

"What? Why do you want it?"

"It's tasty. Are you a spy?"

"What?!?!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Illya is getting ready to go shopping

"Hey, hey, wake up. Wake up. Wake up!"

Napoleon opened his eyes and saw Illya's face right in front of him.

"It's time! It's time!"

Napoleon took his watch from the bedside table and looked at it.

"It's too early..." he groaned and layed back down.

"No, it's not." Illya placed himself on top of Napoleon. "Why do you decide if it's early? I don't want to sleep anymore."

"Well, it's fine if you don't. You don't have to sleep. But it's too early for me."

"Okay, you can sleep again, but only if you pet me."

Napoleon sighed and placed his hand on Illya's head and started stroking his hair, then he moved on to behind his ears and the chin. Illya got completely relaxed, he closed his eyes and started purring. It felt like the most surreal and the most real thing at the same time, Napoleon thought that he'd never want it to end. But it did. Because Illya got up smiling and said, "Fine, you can sleep now!" Then he slipped from the bed and left the room.

Napoleon got up, he couldn't possibly sleep anymore, he sat down on his bed wondering what surprises and wonders the day would bring. The man... Illya was a very strange addition to his life. And yet, it almost felt like the best thing that happened to him lately. One realisation left him perplexed. He knew what to do next, he had to take Illya to Mrs. Pickle and Miss Peters in order to know if he really could speak to cats, and if he could (did he really consider this possibility?), if he could, then to get to know if their cats knew something. If he couldn't, take him to a hospital.

The realisation that surprised Napoleon was that he didn't want to know the truth. He kept telling himself that it was his responsibility, but it didn't make things easier. Well, first he had to buy Illya proper clothes. Yes. So, he'll think about it all tomorrow.

"Would you like to have your own clothes?" asked Napoleon looking at Illya trying very hard to be a good human during breakfast.

"I've already thought about it. What will you do with them after I become a cat again? I'd rather use yours, you have a lot of them."

"Yes, um, but they don't really fit you."

"So what?"

"So... you look a bit strange for other people."

"Alright."

"And I really don't mind buying you something, it won't cost much."

"What will it cost?"

"Well, I'm prepared to spend $100."

"What are dollars?"

"It's things you get for doing some work."

"And you have hundreds of them?"

"Well, yes," smiled Napoleon, "It's really not that much. Some people have millions."

"Millions... wait... millions... They must work all the time and never sleep."

"Well..." Napoleon kept smiling, he loved seeing the world from Illya's perspective, it was so logical and perfect.

"So, your work is to get to know things and then correct them. Does it mean that I need to give you money for helping me to discover what happened to me?"

"Oh, no. Illya, I'm helping you because I want to help you. You don't need to give me anything, it's... for free."

"Do you mean it's for me? Because I'm free."

Napoleon chuckled, "It's for you and you are free, but, you know, free means for no pay as well. By the way... I need to tell you that there will be many people around today. You shouldn't talk to any of them, alright?"

Illya frowned, "You just said that I'm free."

"You are! But... if somebody knows that you are a cat, they won't understand."

"Why? You did."

"Yes, but... it took me time. And I had to, because you were in my house and I couldn't let you leave without knowing who you are and what happened to you."

"Because it's your job?"

"No, why do you say so?"

"Because I think so. You say that others won't want to understand me, because they don't have to."

"No... look, people are different. Some people will try to understand you, others will be too busy or... grumpy for it. Isn't it the same with cats? I just don't want to risk them not understanding you and hurting you." Napoleon reached for Illya's hand, Illya was sitting there consumed by his thoughts, holding his fork like a sceptre.

"I'm tired," he said.

"Of what?" asked Napoleon with concern.

"What if I won't be able to be a good cat again after all of this?"

"You're tired of being human?"

"Yes." Illya didn't look at Napoleon. "Can I just be a cat when I want?"

"Of course, you can, you don't need to ask--"

It looked like Illya melted as he smoothly slipped from the chair to the floor, then he flited towards Napoleon and sat down by his feet facing the window.

"I won't speak to anyone, okay," he said, "But then I'll come back home and be a cat."

"Alright, that's a very good plan. Now, I guess," said Napoleon getting up, "I'll have to teach you how to shave your face because we need to make you look beautiful."

***

An hour later excited but a bit frightened Illya was getting into Napoleon's car. He wasn't quite sure yet that the thing wouldn't start digesting him. However, it seemed... alright. The seat was soft enough and the fact that the roof was open made it a lot easier for him. He could see what was glass and what was not.

"Alright, we'll start with shoes. Remember: you talk only to me. You also might answer questions, of course, but don't forget that you are from a different country and can't really speak English, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

The feeling of being moved by the car made Illya jump up and grab the front window. He thought he could fall out of the car.

"No! It's going to be okay. Please, sit down. Nothing will happen to you, I promise."

It was like running very fast. Buildings, trees, people were flying pass him sooner than he could recognise them. It was exhilarating. Illya started shouting.

Napoleon looked at him briefly and saw his happy face.

"Fun, eh?"

"Yes!"

"Not so bad to get eaten by it every day!"

Illya stood up on his feet and shouted some more.

"Gee, I hope nobody who knows me saw that!" said Napoleon.

"Why don't you ride the car every day? Why don't you do it all the time?"

"Well, you know, people are just stupid!"


End file.
